Run Around the Sun

The Scotland-based duo delight in controlled chaos, interweaving arguments and anxieties with their most exuberant work to date.

The neon sheen of Carly Rae Jepsen may not be the first thing one associates with Sacred Paws, the UK duo known for Rachel Aggs’ loose guitar licks and Eilidh Rodgers’ punchy percussion. But the Canadian queen was evidently on their minds as they recorded their second album, Run Around the Sun: “We don’t make similar music but we want to create a similar feeling,” Aggs said of Jepsen in a recent interview. Over ten propulsive tracks, the similarities to Jepsen’s pop philosophy come into view: lyrics that detail arguments, anxieties, and regrets are set against the duo’s most exuberant work to date.

Take “Life’s Too Short,” the bright and brassy third track. Its snappy snare hits and warm horn section feel primed for a party, but the duo is focused on an absentee lover: “I don’t know what you want/I don’t care, life’s too short.” “Shame on Me” similarly masquerades as a celebration filled with rubbery guitars, but Aggs’ and Rodgers’ sunny vocals wax nostalgic about a past romance: “Can’t you see this was meant to be forever?” The song ends as they repeat the titular phrase, an act of self-flagellation set to breakneck arpeggiated chords.

Speed is perhaps the point here; whereas 2017’s Strike a Match punctuated energetic pacing with more meandering tracks, Run Around the Sun barely stops for breath. Aggs has called Sleater-Kinney’s The Hot Rock one of her biggest influences as a guitarist, and that album’s frenzied urgency manifests in the reverberating guitar squeals of “Brush Your Hair.” Sacred Paws’ lyrics share this immediacy; their strongest verses tend to open in media res. “Fresh air was everything,” Aggs declares on “What’s So Wrong,” and suddenly the scenery zooms into a perfect summer’s day.

Sacred Paws have also mastered Sleater-Kinney’s fiery instrumental give-and-take, a shifting rhythm that constantly reestablishes the band’s center of gravity. Seven songs in, as the onslaught of Aggs’ fretwork threatens to send the record into a tailspin, “Is This Real” finds Rodgers unleashing a chorus of bells and claves. The power exchange extends to the verses, which diverge into anxious repartee that conjures miscommunication in a long-distance relationship. “The Conversation” sounds like an argument over a broken telephone (“Why would we even try to have this conversation?” Aggs asks stubbornly; “It can take a while,” Rodgers offers patiently). “Write This Down” finds the two nervously singing over each other, backgrounded by drum fills and crashing symbols. But more often than not, these parallel verses melt into triumphant harmonies. These moments, where Aggs and Rodgers tackle two distinct narratives that meet at the chorus, cement the band’s dynamic: controlled chaos that, against all odds, finds its way to a central refrain.

Sacred Paws used to be a multi-city affair—Aggs in London, Rodgers in Glasgow—a fact that provided consistent interview fodder, and one they seem to nod to here. “It’s just a page on a map that’s keeping us apart,” they sing over Aggs’ meandering noodling on “How Far.” It’s by far the record’s slowest song, and one could read the chorus (“How long, how far”) as a plea to reconcile the miles between them. But if much of Run Around the Sun is concerned with repenting for past mistakes, the present looks brighter: Aggs recently relocated to Glasgow, where the two bandmates now share a back garden. On the closing track, “Other Side,” they reach an uneasy peace. “I found you/Nothing can stand between us,” Rodgers sings, while Aggs’ answer is more ominous: “I have changed in ways I can’t explain.” But her final riffs, reviving the song after its last refrain, hint that she’s having more fun than she might’ve let on.